


Many Splendid Things

by MisterStalker



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Can be read as friendship or as romance, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:02:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29392395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterStalker/pseuds/MisterStalker
Summary: ★ Geralt gives Jaskier an overwhelming amount of attention during a surprise visit. Jaskier likes to be the center of attention, but even he has his limits!★ Jaskier and Geralt share a bed but the witcher's hands start to wander.★ Jaskier articulates what makes the white wolf so stunning.★ D/s Alternate Universe Geralt and Jaskier have different ideas for Valentine's day plans.★ Jaskier auctions himself to the highest bidder
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	1. For Bex, Happy Valentine's Day!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [minutiae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minutiae/gifts), [grassylampshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grassylampshade/gifts), [Etheria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etheria/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ★ Geralt gives Jaskier an overwhelming amount of attention during a surprise visit. Jaskier likes to be the

_ “But Jaskier, a mastermind, he rose,  
_ _ Once he’d handled the great bow as he pleased,” _

Geralt stopped outside the auditorium door and bowed his head to listen to the verses Jaskier performed for his students. He had never seen the man with a bow of any kind, great or otherwise, except in the elaborate paintings he commissioned to display in his home.

_ “... then, like an master bard of lute and prose,  
_ _ Who strains a string to a new peg with practiced ease” _

Geralt chuckled lightly, careful to be sure that he was not heard through the heavy doors. Much to his amusement, Jaskier was sure to remind his audience that he was a bard as well as a fearless warrior, lest they somehow forgot the former in the middle of the ballad he composed.

_ “...making the pliant sheep-gut fast at either end.  
_ _ So the hero Jaskier strung his mighty bow against his mark!” _

Geralt lifted his head and looked at the heavy oak door as an idea came to mind. The corners of his mouth turned up and he fought to keep his expression stoic and hard, knowing he’d ruin his own plan if he let himself begin to smile too soon. He put his palm to the door, waiting for the bard to finish his line.

_ “Quickly his right hand plucked the string to test it’s pitch,  
_ _ And under his touch it sang out clear and sharp as a lark!” _

Geralt threw open the door with such force that the air in the auditorium was displaced. The wood cracked against the wall loudly and every student in attendance turned and gasped at the sight of the white wolf, somewhat of a folk hero in Professor Jaskier’s classes. Jaskier was frozen with surprise, speechless long enough that Geralt could announce himself. 

“Master Jaskier, I come seeking your aid against a terrible presence in the forest!” Geralt declared and at once every student turned back to their professor for his reply. Fortunately so, because he couldn’t hide his growing smile a second longer. “I require both your mighty bow, and your bravery! Otherwise countless lives will be lost and I fear I will be among them!”

Quite flustered, Jaskier climbed down from his stool, stumbling and uncharacteristically lost for words, “Why- yes. Yes! Of course, my bow. My bravery.” A pink flush crept up his neck from under the collar of his doublet and he seemed nearly bashful as his students cheered for him as if he were a hero going to war. Geralt stood in the doorway, content to subject Jaskier to every last word of praise, but the troubadour caught onto that and gave him a jab to his rib, “Let’s go get your monster, witcher! Your life is at stake if you keep me here too long." He poised ready to deliver another jab and Geralt conceded in letting him go.


	2. For Hound, Happy Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Geralt and Jaskier share a bed the witcher relaxes enough to let his mind and hands wander.

Jaskier roused from a deep sleep at the movement of a strong arm shifting and curling around his own which were folded loosely behind his head as a pillow. He started unfolding his arms, trying to move with Geralt in his sleep-foggy state, when he became aware that the other’s hand was only feeling along his forearm. Jaskier drowsily lowered his head and let Geralt's rough hand feel its way up his arm until it wrapped comfortably around his wrist. Jaskier touched Geralt’s hand curiously with his free hand only to have that wrist captured as well and drawn up over his head.

He was strong. Vastly stronger than Jaskier in his sleep-fogged state where his limbs felt heavy and difficult to move without being held.

Jaskier groaned wordlessly and turned his head to Geralt, squinting through the dark to find his face. The witcher was sleeping, or rather, as close to sleeping as he could be. He rested very deeply in proper beds like this and his mind wandered in those moments as easily as other mens' minds wandered in the fleeting moments before true deep sleep. Jaskier had come to discover Geralt was very impressionable in this state and acted on the ideas passing through his mind without inhibition.

The human man’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and confirmed the witcher’s eyes were shut. No glimpse of the yellow irises that flashed even in total darkness. Jaskier knew how lightly the other rested, how easily he would wake up if anything was said. He knew from experience that Geralt would return to total alertness, immediately look at where his hands had settled on the other’s body, and begin apologizing profusely. If Jaskier were to disturb him.

Geralt’s other hand moved across the vulnerable plane of Jaskier’s stomach, curling around his waist and pulling their bodies flush together until the smaller man was perfectly captured in his arms. Jaskier could feel the heavy and calm breaths running down the length of his naked neck, afraid to breathe too deeply himself and risk ending the fleeting moment. As long as the witcher was asleep the bard could experience the undisclosed desires that lurked deep in his friend’s thoughts, never to see the light of day.


	3. For LookOutRogure, Happy Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier praises the beautiful little things that make Geralt stunning in his eyes.

The heat of a lustful stare was not the compliment one might expect it to be. At least, not to Geralt. After all, there were common folk who spotted leshens and made it a goal to be bred by the monsters.

He could not complain too much, he reasoned. The path could be lonely, and it helped occasionally to encounter someone who wanted to share a bed. But they looked at him the same way they looked at any other monster. Their lust for him was undeniably tied to deeply rooted hate and fear.

Gerald did his best to ignore lustful stares and let people believe he didn't notice. Especially when those lingering eyes belonged to Jaskier.

“You’re stunning, my dear. You must know.” Jaskier stated, making it impossible for Geralt to carry on the charade that he didn’t notice the persistent stare following him around the camp. He hummed, tight-lipped, unwilling to invite any more attention. The troubadour rarely waited for an invitation, however, and he didn’t wait for one now. “Not just stunning, inspiring. The poetry I could write about you...”

“ _ That’s _ what I need.” Geralt muttered under his breath, refusing to look up from the concoction in his mortar.

“What was that?” Jaskier asked, sitting up a little straighter. “Something you need?”

“Another song about me fighting and killing.” Geralt said louder, not hiding the bitterness in his tone.

“Oh, not a song.” Jaskier said, waving his hand as he dismissed the thought, “My songs are for the masses. My poetry is just for myself. The poetry I could write about you would detail every feature of yours I must immortalize in ink and paper for eternity.”

Geralt’s hand stilled on his pestle as he tried to imagine that. He blinked down at his hands and then set down the mortar and pestle, concoction momentarily forgotten as he focused on the poet, “Which ones?”

Jaskier hummed innocently, “hmm?” He looked up and found the other’s serious features insisting they both understood the question. He smiled a little shyly and looked away, “Oh, the usual little things I find so attractive on men. Tragically underappreciated works of art…” Geralt said nothing, staring at the other with an intensity to force out his words. “I… adore the baby hairs that dust your nape when you’re working with your hair drawn up in a tie.”

An uncharacteristically soft sound escaped the witcher as he fought the urge to reach back and touch the back of his neck. For all the lust aimed at his shock-white hair, he’d never heard this. He asked with a strained voice, “And… Is that all?”

“Certainly not!” Jaskier laughed lightly, uncharacteristically shy as he bared himself open. He wasn’t talking about objective truths: witcher strength, grizzly scars, white hair, two swords, silver medallion, fighting, and killing. He was sharing the things that made him soft, more man than monster. The notch where Geralt’s collarbones met below his throat. Where the muscles of his forearm tapered into his wrist. Where the angles of his ankles broadened into well formed calf muscles. Where the edges of his shoulder blades broke through his back muscles.

The poet carried on and on through a growing list of details, some of which Geralt agreed with and had often secretly considered to be underappreciated features of his physique. Some of which Geralt had never even noticed on himself, much less wondered if they were attractive.

Unbeknownst to himself, Geralt started to smile as he listened, feeling truly and genuinely  _ seen  _ and _ stunning. _


	4. For E------, Happy Valentine's Day!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this work:
> 
> [How Do They Rise Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29349396/chapters/72090729)
> 
> A Modern D/s Alternate Universe wherein Geralt and Jaskier consider 'Valentine's Day'.

Jaskier tapped his finger across the days on the calendar, counting down to the romance holiday of the year. Traditionally, it was less about romance and more about the sexual aspect of a Dominant/submissive dynamic. In the modern day there were few people who honoured the old traditions and most people celebrated very casually with flowers, chocolates, and loving declarations. The submissive would place a bouquet of flowers at their dominant’s feet while bowed down on their knees in adoration. The dominant would arrange chocolates over their submissive’s body and take their time capturing little bites between their teeth. The dominant would declare sweetly how they will care for and cherish their property, their submissive.

This was all done in good fun, but there were some traditionalists who took the holiday much more seriously. It was a holiday for publicly declaring ownership of a submissive in an utterly carnal way, acknowledging the base drives of dominants and submissives from a primal era predating written contracts. Traditionalist dominants brought their fully undressed submissives out into public, put them on their knees, and rode their faces until they could spill their seed onto them.

The new, barely trained submissives were easily spotted by bindings that prevented them from wiping the dripping cum away as it dribbled down their naked bodies. Well trained experienced submissives wore their dominant’s seed marking their flesh like a badge of honour.

Jaskier tapped the day on the calendar and announced with utter relief, “I’m so glad I wont be with a Dominant this year for the holiday.” He might have been saying it to his flat mate, he might have been saying it to himself, but Geralt froze, shocked by the statement and feeling like an absolute fool for not expecting it already.

This was the first year that Jaskier was free to be on his own. Since he was old enough to acknowledge the holiday he had been trapped in the role of a submissive, bound by contract to dominant partners chosen for him.

It was obvious then, Geralt realized, that Jaskier would not want to play pretend at being in a dynamic with his friend. And even if the younger man had wanted to celebrate the holiday, he made it very clear when he had his traditionalist submissive’s cuff broken off that he was not a submissive and certainly not a traditionalist submissive.

Jaskier crouched down to meet where Geralt’s eyes were drilling into the wall. His cornflower blue eyes captured the other’s and refused to let them go. “I was talking to you.” He said and Geralt paled with embarrassment until realizing that the other had in fact been talking for some time now, the words becoming a meaningless fuzz in the wake of the fresh reminder that they had no reason to celebrate the holiday together.

After a moment of undivided attention the younger man stood up and Geralt tilted his head to follow him. Jaskier asked suspiciously, “What are you thinking?” Geralt nearly answered then stopped himself before the other’s impressively confident tone could put him into a place of calm and carefree obedience. He lowered his chin, looking away and refusing to supplicate himself until Jaskier put his fingertips under his chin and lifted it again, “You’re distracted. Tell me.”

This time, with Jaskier’s hand guiding his face, he gave in and answered, “I was thinking of celebrating the holiday with you.”

Jaskier dropped his hand and rolled his eyes, “It’s a terrible holiday though! It enforces the Dominant/submissive binary without any room for switches, unless the trade off of roles is that one person simply does  _ all _ of the work. And the traditionalists! The traditional observance of the holiday is too rigid and doesn’t allow for  _ any _ variation in dynamics!” He was definitely talking to himself now because Geralt had heard all of these arguments before. He agreed with these arguments even, most of the time. Old practices and old holidays were rife with problems that society had luckily progressed enough to recognize, if not fully cast off. But nonetheless, he stared up at the other listening as he spoke. Eventually Jaskier slowed and asked, “Why did you want to celebrate the holiday?”

Geralt answered simply, “I’ve never had someone to celebrate with.”   
  
Jaskier stopped his lecture and paused, considering the holiday again. As a switch himself, he understood. Although he had spent most of his life forced to perform one side of his varied alignment, his friend had lived all of his life unable to participate at all. He could only imagine how lonely that could feel. “Well… what would you want to do?” he asked softly.

The older man laughed lightly and looked away, but fell silent as the other’s strong fingers touched his chin and brought it back into place. He looked up and answered, “I just wanted to spend the day with you.”

Jaskier smiled, soft and relieved, and nodded, “All right. I can do that.”


	5. For GrassyLampShade, Happy Valentine's Day!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier celebrates the most important day of the year in worship of Namaah, with Geralt.

“We can start the donations to the temple of Namaah, in exchange for Jaskier, renowned priest of Namaah, at 100 crowns.” The auctioneer announced. Calling it a donation to the faith of Namaah, god of pleasure and sex, was a formality for the sensibilities of the public. It made them feel less like they were bidding on meat and more like they were doing a great public service, donating to an established church in exchange for ‘private worship’ with a talented priest.

Jaskier arranged the ornate but sheer fabric that draped down to the floor and barely covered his groin. He lounged and gazed flirtatiously before touching his fingers to his lute again, showing their dexterity and talent in one of the more tame ways he provided pleasure.

“110” Geralt announced from behind him. He had previously been unseen. A black shadow going wherever Jaskier went, but never to speak or interact. His purpose seemed only to scowl, brood, growl at anyone getting too close, and of course protect his ward if he were in danger. Bidding to spend the most romantic and sexually charged day of the year with a priest of Namaah was unheard of for a guardian.

The crowd was silenced in intimidation, and anyone who murmured was pinned under Geralt’s sharp gold eyes peering out from the shadows. Jaskier twisted in his seat and hissed, “Geralt! What are you doing? This is the most important holiday of the year to Namaah and-”

“200!” A voice rang out and every head in the room swiveled to look. Lambert, a fellow guardian who trained with Geralt, was staring with equal parts shock and fury at his ward who was grinning like a mischievous cat.

“210!” Geralt declared. “250!” The lordling answered. “260!” “300!” They went back and forth, with Geralt determined to keep his lead but obviously constrained by a modest budget, Lambert’s man taking the lead in strides while ignoring the heated warning stare from his witcher. “525!” Geralt said with a snarl, yellow eyes becoming monstrous and threatening.

Lambert had a hand on the back of his own ward's neck now. He dragged him closer to whisper something into his ear that made the lordling shiver and fight hard to hide an excited grin. He said nothing, conceding and letting Geralt win the bidding war.

“525 gold crowns, to the Witcher!” The auctioneer declared, surprise evident on her face.

Jaskier stood up at once, setting down his lute to pull his modesty cloth up and over his shoulder, “Geralt!” He had been shocked to silence for the bidding war, and flushed pink as he watched the men fight over him, but he was beginning to find his words again. “What do you think you’re-”

The witcher seized his hips and lifted him up and over his shoulder in one graceful motion, at once rendering the sheet useless as it only covered his front side now bent over the larger man’s shoulder and did nothing to cover his rear bared for the world to see. In a quiet, growling tone just loud enough for Jaskier to hear, Geralt answered as he left the stage, “I’m doing whatever I please with you. I’ve paid for the night, after all. Haven’t I?”


End file.
